Jokes on You (Introduction)
by Sarakiima
Summary: Inspired by Suicide Squad- Gotham's crime Prince discovers a special gift inside the city's Arkham Asylum, which begs the question be asked, who is really locked up? This is an introduction to my portrayal of the complicated romance between Joker and Harley Quin with plans to dig deep into the maturity of their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

He could never actually control himself; not when he rampaged Gotham, not when his knives were so joyfully sharp, not when Batman made killing sprees so fun, and certainly not when Doctor Harleen Quinzel let her gaze linger on him a second too long.

The self-proclaimed Prince of Gotham was once again behind the thick walls of Arkham Asylum, the only place in the city where all evil-minded criminals gathered together. Separated from their victims, followers and toys, in the hopes that one day they could be cleansed or just simply stored until death.

Damp dripping bricks lined three walls in his cell, and the light from an old hanging lamp barely showed the rusted metal cot shoved in the corner. Screw size holes showed in the legs of the bed where it could once secure into the ground, now left empty for the safety of the staff rather than the patient. The fourth wall was completely sealed into the brick with a thick pane of plastic that gave staff and patient a clear view of one another.

A slender tanned hand, neatly manicured, gripped the black handle that latched onto the panes sliding mechanism. A golden halo seemed to radiate from her head spilling glossy sunbeams down her shoulders to rest upon her plumped bosom. Eyes of the purest blue crystal graced past his darkened figure, while luscious lips colored like freshly spilled blood spoke unimportant words to a faceless cretin behind this angel of hell.

"Mister Joker? Can you hear me? Hank, has he spoken anything this morning?" Doctor Harleen Quinzel took her hand off the door to patient 0801 and glanced over her shoulder to the burly guard behind her. Reaching up to scratch a constant itch from under his brown hat, the security guard Hank gave a shrug and rifled through a manila folder with the corresponding number. "Honestly Doctor Quinzel, the sick bastard doesn't really talk. It's mainly laughing or singing." Hank let out a dry cough and passed the folder to Doctor Quinzel, "Use to be the weirdest thing about him, but if he started talking now, I'd reckon we'd want to be a bit more worried." The guard tugged at his heavy utility belt that somehow managed to hold a pistol, radio, flashlight and Taser all the while holding his pants up.

"I see. Alright, let's get him out and escorted to my office so I can begin his new sessions." Doctor Quinzel nodded towards the cell, plucking a key from her stark white lab coat and simultaneously twisting it into the lock while tugging open the only thing separating them, from him. The guard hustled forward, hoping to give the nightmare locked inside no chance for an attack, but there was no resistance from the subdued patient.

Doctor Quinzel took a step back to give Hank room to bring her patient out into the light; it was unnerving to her that she couldn't see his face back in the cell. Of course, she had heard the story, and seen a mug shot picture, but a grainy black and white photo couldn't have prepared her for what the lamp light exposed. Grunting with an effort to ensure plenty of space between patient 0801 and one of Arkham's top Doctors, Hank held the Joker by worn leather straps that laced firmly into a dirty white straight jacket. His head was hung down; greasy strands of neon green hair covered his face, and the appearance of futility etched into the way he let himself be held.

"Hello Mister Joker, I'm Doctor Quinzel and today is day one of your in-depth rehabilitation sessions." Doctor Quinzel's voice seemed to echo the walls of the chamber and for a moment she thought her words were wasted on deaf ears. Just when the guard was about to shake some response into the patient, Joker rolled his neck to the right and lifted his head up slightly to take in the blinding image of her.

The light flooded over his features as he gazed slightly down at her. His skin was a bloodless white occasionally spotted with rich black ink tattoos placed in odd, deliberate, but random, spots on his face. His lips were stained a faded red as if someone had tried to rub all color off of them but was left with remnants of his claim to humanity. Silver glinted from his parted lips, the source of painfully implanted metal teeth and the sparse bit of light almost seemed to warm his ghost-like features. But what was truly shocking was the way his eyes seemed to flourish in the light, giving a fractal-like explosion of blue hues to his widening eyes.

There was only silence, but it seemed as if knives flowed from his eyes intent on shredding the facade he saw of her. Doctor Quinzel only waited, and watched as her patient lift his head in recognition. As the light painted his features into her mind there he saw it, it was the tiniest of reactions, but the pupils of her eyes slightly widened soaking in his image.

It was but a moment that passed from when the words left her lips and the silent, watchful, exchange between them. "You awake Joker? Doctor Quinzel is addressing you!" Hank pulled on the leather straps, jerking Joker's constricted body back and forth as if he wasn't awake. "Sorry Doctor, you know what they say about the crazy ones." The guard chuckled, slapping a strong hand onto the padded shoulder of the patient.

Pulling air through his metallic teeth, and seeming to fight an urge to smash his head into the bloated guards head, Joker slowly straightened his posture and raised his head up, hanging it back to peer across at Doctor Quinzel.

He had seen it. He had seen what the cretin hadn't, he had seen what no other man had noticed, and he had seen what Doctor Quinzel could not even see for herself.

A wide slick grin overtook patient 0801's washed-out face, and as his stained lips parted, a low, guttural cackle of laughter erupted from his throat. It grew with a force and soon consumed the dark, damp cell and matching hallway which within they stood.

Hank's face dropped from a mocking grin, beads of sweat formed on his brow as the cackle rose from the lunatic's throat. Doctor Quinzel watched on, not in horror but intrigue mixed with nervous warnings shooting through her stomach.

Finally. The Joker had found his Princess; she just didn't know it yet.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a humbling job to help those who had no one looking out for them because of their, unsavory ways of thinking. She always felt the most content after a session with a patient; Arkham Asylum truly held the most interesting people. For her, looking past what the world saw and into the soul and reasoning behind these individuals is what made her job worthwhile. But with him, it became a thrill. 

It was comforting for Doctor Harleen Quinzel to leave the dark hallways of Arkham's finest and return to the gray inner halls that held the staff's offices. The walk up to her office was thankfully uneventful, as Doctor Quinzel was confident the security guard wouldn't have been much help had her new patient decided things weren't so funny anymore. 

That eerie cackle followed them up two flights of stairs and halfway down the corridor towards her office. Self-conscious thoughts overtook her mind causing her to catch glimpses of herself in window's reflections. Each time she glanced at her reflection she couldn't find anything funny about her appearance, her hair was pulled tightly back in a rounded bun, thick square glasses adorned her face, and her skin seemed practically perfect thanks to the tanned glow from a weekend holiday past. 

"Thank you, Hank, I'll buzz when the session is over." Doctor Quinzel nodded thankfully to the guard as he finished adjusting the straps that tied Joker into a chair at a cheap, plastic table. "Be sure to buzz us if he starts acting up, you don't want to take any chances with this clown." The words were called over his shoulder as Hank lazily exited her office, nudging the door closed with his foot. The office wasn't anything special, but it was large enough to fit the table and two chairs for Doctor and patient, with a short bookcase under a long skinny window. Light flooded in from the window panes illuminating the room brightly and making it a stark contrast to the dark cells below.

The laughter had finally died from his throat, a realization that would forever stay his little secret, for now. A calm breathed into the room as Doctor Quinzel pulled a fat, unmarked binder from the bookshelf only to lay it upon the table as she took her seat. Those bright blue eyes of hers had not even glanced at her new patient, instead choosing to allow him privacy perhaps unknown to him. "Mister Joker I'm going to begin this session by asking you to state your name, where you are, and if you know why you are here." Doctor Quinzel absentmindedly jotted down her Arkham ID inside the binder, flipping through the blank worksheets that she hoped would soon be filled with his dark being.

No response, just the scratching of her pen on paper, which soon ended in the silence that filled the room. A feeling of unease washed over her and against her internal warnings Doctor Quinzel lifted her gaze up over her glasses to find Joker staring directly at her, a wide grin spread across his face.

"Mister Joker, I'm go-" her voice seemed to die in her mouth as he tilted his head to the side, letting his eyes roam over her seated across from him. Joker's intense gaze flickered down then slyly back up to meet hers, "You know who I am, I'm where I am, and I did a lot of fun things to get here." His eyes seemed to roll as his voice dipped in pronunciation, while his faded red lips ended in a smile barring his metal grin. From an outsiders view the scene was exciting, like a predator locking onto their stunned prey. Doctor Quinzel was only watching his lips move with each unhelpful word while Joker stretched as far forward towards her as the straps would allow.

Before the silence could fall back upon the room, Doctor Quinzel tapped the tip of her pen onto the plastic table and narrowed her eyes at the patient. "Ok, so Mister Joker clearly are you aware of your situation, but I'd appreciate it if you would elaborate a bit more." She shook her head in mild disappointment ensuring that her reaction was not exactly negative, so to avoid provoking him. The grin slid off Joker's face, and a neutral calm fell in its stead, "And I'd really, _really_ , would like to get out of these straps. There just so…" Doctor Quinzel watched as Joker squirmed in his seat against the straps, his eyes rolling up, face scrunching and his words cut with the biting of his teeth, "Tight! What yah say Doc? Can a man just loosen up some?"

She knew better than to let emotions come into the sessions, why pity a man who also tied up and restricted his victims? But then she always wondered what right they had to exact similar punishments on these messed up souls. The benefit of the doubt was her go to vice, and right now Doctor Quinzel needed to establish a trust between her and the patient, it had nothing to do with the way his lips moved when he spoke. His wide, striking eyes followed her as she rose and walked over behind him causing his head to turn sharply to keep her in his sights. Doctor Quinzel gave a nervous smile causing a pink glow to spread across her face, and she confidently tugged at the straps, loosening them just an inch or two. 

The façade from the cells was finally beginning to fade from her, and that angel of hell he witnessed below exposed the vulnerable human beneath it. "How's that now Mister Joker? Are you ready to open up to me?" she wanted to run; she wanted to escape that piercing gaze of his that seemed to see right through her. Doctor Quinzel understood this feeling, though, it was one all ordinary people experienced in the face of the uncertain, so she pushed the urges aside and once again took her seat.

"Aaah…Oh yes! That feels so good!" Joker let his constrained body slouch back in his chair, savoring the newly given range of his straps. The patient closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, the delicious scent of sterilization products and the faint wisp of vanilla seemed to intoxicate him. Just as Doctor Quinzel parted her lips to remind him of their reason here today, he spoke, and his words were like dumping ice water over her body. 

"My Father used to beat me, it was something I could handle but, gods, when he turned his fist on my Mother….I could have killed him. Right then and there….but I was never strong enough, never….. good enough…" he was there, he was back in that house, and he saw the horrors a young child shouldn't have to see. Doctor Quinzel found her hand gone limp, the pen merely resting in her fingers while her eyes widened in sadness. He was broken. She pulled herself back into realization and put her pen to paper, hurriedly taking notes upon her patient.

Joker spoke of attempts to run away, how he couldn't save his Mother and how a hero rose to vanquish his Father. "He was the crime boss of Gotham then, and he gave me a chance at life that no one ever offered. "His eyes now opened, and a deadly stare seemed to go right past her into his memories of old. "I vowed, I would never be bound by rules again, and he showed me just how possible it was to become royalty." Doctor Quinzel's pen stopped mid-sentence, astonishment, and understanding coming over her; it made sense to her, he was brought up in a life of violence, and his only escape was to fight for his place in the world. 

The feeling was strange, like butterfly's trying to push a way out and burst from the fingertips. It was a feeling that hadn't been felt in a long time, and certainly not with someone like this. Who were they to cause a smoldering passion inside, and throw caution to the wind? Not only would people be disgusted but who could say the feelings would be reciprocated? No, the feelings would be mutual, that or he would just have to make her into what he needed.

"So Sweets, now you know some about me, how about you let me hear about you?" Joker broke the seriousness of their discussion with a metallic grin, enjoying the feelings that were burning inside him while basking in her uncomfortable adjustments at the name.


	3. Chapter 3

How could she become his, what could cause her to fly closer to his fiery sun? Everyone had a dark side that was suffocated beneath the surface, so very few knew how to let that part breath. When one could let go of the mundane life pushed on society then one could savor the flavor of a carefree life, and he knew all too well how delicious that freedom tasted. He just needed her to feel it, just once, and she could be his forever. She had yet to know that she could make him hers as well.

It was four days since Doctor Harleen Quinzel had her first session with the Joker and it was an experience she had yet to shake from her mind. The weather had turned sour since that day; fog filled rain drenched the city, pushing out the smell of rotten worms to engulf Arkham Asylum. Drops of rain rolled down the slender windows in her office, an occasional bead pushing itself through a crack to wet the carpet below. Harleen was searching through the binder that held more information about the Joker than any Doctor in her practice even hoped of gaining. Nothing in the information had changed since it was written, but she felt that there had to be some clue, some unhuman reason to explain his wickedness. "Tragedy." She whispered to herself, "Tragedy surrounded him, and he still tries to make the best of his life with jokes." Harleen ran her hand over top her hair, flipping through the pages of his life.

"Doctor Quinzel, you're needed over at the pharmacy." The voice caused her to become startled. Her focus had been so deep in Joker's life that she hadn't even realized the door opened. A security guard she couldn't recall the name of held the door ajar, nodding out into the hall. "Thank you, I'll be right there." Harleen picked her thick black glasses up off the table, slid them back on, shut the binder and proceeded to follow the guard out into the Asylum. Arkham was one of the most reputable Asylums in the country, and the fact that she was now Doctor to one of its most renowned patients still seemed surreal. The halls were all the same mono gray; it wasn't until you took the elevators down to the patient cells that it turned into those dark brick walls. Apparently, another patient of hers was refusing to take their medicine; the nurse had been screamed at for attempting to give them pills made from organic materials. Doctor Quinzel nodded sympathetically to the nurse who endured the shouting and recommended the patient be given a liquid form of her medication. Such a small matter and she wondered why the nurse couldn't think to switch the medicines herself?

He was here. No, he couldn't have been here. She knew for a fact he was locked in a cell, an abused straight jacket binding his arms tightly to his side. Nothing was out of place; her office remained as she left it but five minutes ago. So why did she stand in the doorway, eyes closed inhaling a delicious, musky scent that seemed to wrap around her? It was there at the center of her desk that she saw it, her pulse quickened, her breath caught, and her palms grew sweaty.

A single rose with petals of a deep wine red was placed delicately in a slender black vase. A bright green ribbon was loosely tied to the stem; a tag lay just in her eye's sight reading;

Come down and see me some time. –J

Harleen managed to find the breath that was stolen from her, and she took to the rose in two strides. Gently she lifted the rose out of its container, bringing it to brush the tip of her nose softly and inhaling the light fragrance. It was a natural response, the smile that crept over her face and the warmth that spread over her body. She didn't even wonder if it was anyone else, she knew Joker had given her the rose, inviting her to share a moment of his time and presence. Doctor Quinzel had assumed she had been too harsh at the end of their first session, "Sweets" he had called her. So inappropriate and although she had strictly forbidden him from such nicknames he had still left their session mouthing "Sweets" behind the guards back, causing a rush of red to consume her cheeks.

Harleen placed the rose back into the slim vase and plucked the ribbon from around the steam, rubbing her fingertips over the inked words. He had left his cell; a dangerous and seductive patient had free-roam of the Asylum. She found herself in a rush of thoughts, not even noticing the new labels she applied to him, he was out of his cell and gone so why wasn't the alarm sounded? Doctor Quinzel reached for Joker's binder, flipping the front page open and snatching a key from inside. The door of her office closed as quickly as her heels left the room, a clicking echoed the halls as she rushed to the elevators. Her heart pounded inside her chest while her hands trembled anxiously, the elevator seemed to lower her down at an agonizing pace. Finally, the smooth silver doors spread open; it was only three doors down where she expected to find the abandoned cell of her ward.

Darkness swirled in front of her the halls of brick soaked up any useful light and inside his cell she saw only shadows. But suddenly, and perhaps she was light headed from her rush to reach his cell, she could have sworn the shadows bowed before him exposing his figure as it stepped up into view. He was still constricted in the old leather straight jacket, but his stance was one of confidence, and he had somehow managed to slick his bright green hair back. "Do you want to tell me how this got in my office?" Harleen held up the note into the light, choosing to confront him first before her eyes began to roam.

Doctor Quinzel stood firm before him, fear nowhere on her face. She looked so anxious, so very vulnerable. It was perfect how her hand trembled, the effort it took her to keep her eyes locked on his. It had been too long since he had seen her, and he didn't like to be kept waiting, that would be something he would need to teach her. "I put it there." His voice seemed deeper with his gaze remained locked with hers. Harleen couldn't believe his boldness; it was crazy and yet so brave. "I'm sure the guards would love to know how you did that Mister Joker." Doctor Quinzel kept her voice steady and almost playful; she knew he liked to play games so why not play back? She was rewarded with his iron smile, and he strode closer to the thick pane of plastic. "If you were really going to tell, you would have already." His counter surprised her, and yet it wasn't his boldness, but the truth of his words that shocked her. "So Sweets, do your friends call you Harley?" Joker pressed his forehead against the pane, licking his lips as he looked her over. Harleen felt exposed under those intense blue eyes of his, and she turned her body to the side in an effort to maintain some sense of privacy. "I don't really have any friends Mister Joker..." She felt wrongness in the conversation; things were getting too personal too fast, so why did her heart feel like it would jump out of her chest.

When she had turned from him it was such a treat, he hadn't even asked her to show herself off and yet there she was giving him a perfect view of her slender frame. The golden strands of hair he had imagined were tied up into a bun, and she was so tensely wound; something else he needed to adjust with her. "Well Harley, you've got one now." Lifting his head up, Joker seemed to expel a husky presence all around her. His words were like a fire inside, warming her and making her feel safe for the first time in Arkham. It didn't matter who he was or what he had done, at that moment she had a friend, someone who trusted her with his darkest secrets and vulnerabilities.

Harleen didn't dare breath a word, the situation had crossed the line, and she all but danced her way over to it. Before he could see the blush consume her face, she left his intoxicating presence, practically rushing back to the elevators. Behind her she heard him erupt into his glorious cackle of laughter, almost pinching herself for how flushed it made her feel.

Perhaps session two needed to start sooner, rather than later.


	4. Chapter 4 (Some)

**_Hello all! I know many wanted me to continue with this story, and I apologize for disappearing! I moved and honestly got out of my inspiration for the story. But I was inspired again, at last! Here is a brief part of the story as I get back into the zone of Joker and Harleen. For those interested music really helps get me in the writing zone for these two! Purple Lamborghini by Skrillex, Go (feat. Blood Diamonds) by Grimes, Gangsta by Kehlani, and Blood Sugar by Pendulum are my go to songs while writing this story. Hope you enjoy this delicious little addition. 3_**

The city of Gotham burning, a stench of death hung in the air while plumes of smoke wrecked the skyline, and yet it was the most beautiful sight he had seen. Gotham in flames, the Bat hung from a noose with a sick smile spread across his cowl. He had done it, finally no man -be it of creature or god- would stop his terror. Screams came from not only the alleys but the homes of Gotham's once finest, as those with his like mind freed themselves from the tyranny of the Batman. It was a dream that the Prince of Gotham experienced on the best of nights, the city in ruin and his mortal enemy's corpse swinging in view.

A shimmer spread out over the image, the Bat no longer drew his wicked gaze, instead he watched in awe as an angel descended from the bellowing smoke. Her hair a golden waterfall, skin pale and lips bitten a luscious red with curves only a woman should have. She was perfection and she saw into his soul, he could feel her knowing and understanding of his desire. He wouldn't let this image go on any longer, screw the grace of her descent, she was his for the taking.

Prince of Gotham's underworld, the Joker, strode past the dead Bat, through the burning flames and caught his beloved as she lowered into his arms. The scene was intoxicating to him, death and destruction all around, while this angel had only eyes for him. Her lips parted slightly, catching her breath as he tightened his grip around her, pulling her as close as their bodies would allow. His rough hand reached to grab the delicate simple dress that garbed her, so silky soft and smooth, it had to go. With a swift pull it ripped away from her body and the lust that overtook him was shortly killed as reality came banging back into his head. "Joker get up, you've got a visitor." The gruff voice of the security guard brought him no happiness, but he did make a note to ensure his death would later.


End file.
